Ifm ((install)) | I Feel Myself

April 14, 2026

At first, the answers were terrifying. “I don’t know” was the reply to almost everything. But slowly, softly, preferences emerged. A love for rainy afternoons and thick sweaters. A distaste for small talk that drains my soul. A weird, nerdy passion for the way light hits water.

Today, I feel myself. Not perfectly. Not loudly. Not without fear. But truly. i feel myself ifm

And that is everything.

That’s the first breath of IFM.

It’s the Sunday afternoon where you don’t feel the urge to perform for anyone. It’s laughing at your own joke even when no one else is around. It’s realizing you don’t actually like a band you’ve pretended to love for three years. It’s putting your phone down mid-scroll because you have a thought, and for once, you want to hear it. There was a season of my life where I was a brilliant mimic. I could mirror energy, match vibes, absorb the personality of whoever I was with. I was a social chameleon, but the problem with chameleons is that eventually, you forget what color you actually are.

I started small. I asked myself boring questions: What do I actually want for breakfast? Do I prefer silence or a podcast right now? What does my body need, not what my schedule demands? April 14, 2026 At first, the answers were terrifying

For a long time, I didn’t know what that meant. I thought "feeling yourself" meant confidence—walking into a room like you own it, posting a fire selfie, getting that promotion. And sure, that’s a version of it. But the real thing? The IFM of it all? It’s much quieter.